🕷️ The Rugged Cage Chapter 1: Cold Hands, Warm Cage
The Alps — Winter
Silence pressed against the mountains like a secret too heavy to speak.
Snow smothered the ground in thick, untouched layers. Wind howled like a wolf in mourning. And in the middle of that endless white—like a scar on a flawless surface—stood a house of glass, steel, and shadows.
It didn't look like a home. It looked like a fortress designed by an artist, all sharp edges and mirrored walls. Cold. Brutal. Perfect.
Inside that house, Rami Zahid wiped grease from his hands and stared at his reflection in the window. His breath fogged the glass, but his own eyes stared back with the same dull anger they always held.
It was supposed to be a short job. Weld some joints. Fix the power generator. Get paid under the table and disappear. That's what the man on the phone had said.
But that was before he saw the cameras.
Before the third locked door.
Before the man who owned the house walked in and said:
"Take off your jacket. I want to see what they did to you."
Rami turned. Slowly.
And there he was.
August Thorne. The man behind the voice. Behind the wealth. Behind the myth.
He was taller than Rami expected. Pale, sharp-jawed, with winter-gray eyes that didn't blink often enough. He wore a black turtleneck like it was armor, and stood like someone used to watching people break.
Rami didn't move.
"Excuse me?" he said, low, rough.
August took a step closer, voice even. "Your back. You wince when you bend. You've had shrapnel, or lashes. Or both."
His tone wasn't cruel. It wasn't kind. It was... clinical. Hungry.
Rami's throat tightened. "That's none of your business."
"Everything under this roof is my business."
August's hand hovered near his pocket. Not threatening—just waiting. Commanding without raising a voice.
"You agreed to the rules when you entered, Mr. Zahid. No lies. No masks."
Rami clenched his jaw. He felt the scars under his shirt twitch like they were alive.
This wasn't a job anymore. This was something else.
Something dangerous.
August stepped forward, close now. Too close. The smell of cedar, snow, and something darker—machine oil or gunpowder—wrapped around him.
"You're not just a welder," August said. "You survived something that should've ended you. I recognize the look in your eyes."
Rami met his gaze. "And what look is that?"
August tilted his head slightly.
"The look of a man who still wakes up inside his cage... even when the door is gone."
Rami swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists.
"And what about you?" he asked, voice sharp. "Is this your cage?"
August smiled.
"No, Rami. This is yours. I just built it."
🖋️ End of Chapter 1